


What's this?

by dieFabuliererin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Mentions of Slavery, Post-Zygerria Arc (Star Wars: Clone Wars), not anisoka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dieFabuliererin/pseuds/dieFabuliererin
Summary: Anakin has a scar on the back of his neck. Ahsoka wants to know what it's from.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 227





	1. Chapter 1

Ahsoka hates ice planets.

She always has, and she always will.

Anakin knows she hates them- as he's not the biggest fan himself- so he always ensures her big fluffy coat in on the kit list. Without it, he would need his lightsaber to defrost her by the end of whatever mission they're on.

Even in her coat, Ahsoka's freezing. Her toes are numb, her hands have gone a light orange which she's just managing to hide from the medics, and if her montrals weren't hidden under a padded hood, they could be carved like an ice sculpture.

The cold makes her miserable.

She doesn't mind fighting droids or having to carefully step across thin ice, but it's really the general coldness that gets to her. Master Plo once told her that- as a youngling- she would never run barefoot like the rest of her clanmates. She always had to wear fluffy socks or slips, which he found- in his words- ‘amusingly adorable’.

He’s such a dad, he puts Obi-Wan and Anakin to shame.

“Keep up, Ahsoka!” Anakin calls from the front of the group, prodding her through their bond. Sighing, she widens her strides, trying to ignore the way the cold seeps through her bones like venom.

The medics stick close by- probably by Anakin's orders- and push energy pouches into her numb fingers whenever they stop for a break. Before they set off, Rex gave her his buff which he wears under his helmet so she can cover her mouth and nose as they trek across the treacherous ice, but when they stop for surveillance, Ahsoka pulls the buff all the way up so it covers her eyes, allowing her breath to warm up her entire face.

Usually, she would refuse the extra help, but the guys have a higher body temperature than her, and their cold climate gear is far superior to her coat and boots. So, this time, she accepts the buff and rations without protest.

She’s still cold, but the spirit of unity amongst her men spreads a warmth through her chest.

After fourteen hours, Anakin finally announces that they'll be setting up camp.

It's not nice to sleep with a bedroll being the only thing to separate her body from pure ice, but it's better than hiking for klicks on end.

She doesn't sit near the fire to eat her hot rations which Anakin kindly makes for her. Instead, she sits in her sleeping bag, huddled inside the tent that she'll be sharing with her Master. It’s snug for the two of them, and that sucks on hot planets, but it’s nice when it’s cold.

Anakin joins her for dinner instead of socialising with the men, saying he could use a sit down as well and the tent will warm up faster if they're both in there. He's not much company whilst he's hungry and tired, but Ahsoka doesn't fancy too much conversation considering she's freezing her lekku off.

“Beats Tatooine, right?” She tries to joke as she waits for him to finish his meal.

“I got used to the sand, even though I didn’t like it,” he murmurs between mouthfuls, “but I’ll never get used to snow.”

“Neither,” she agrees, and they slip back into silence.

Soon enough, Anakin suggests they settle down for the night. It's got warmer inside the tent, but once she's laid down and can feel the hardness of the ice beneath her, Ahsoka’s tiredness suddenly evaporates and she's left wide awake and cold whilst Anakin snores like a bantha beside her.

How he’s comfortable enough to sleep, she’ll never know. Anakin usually stays up well into the early hours, so his exhaustion is a clear sign that trekking across the ice wore down even the toughest Jedi Knight in the entire GAR.

Ahsoka curls into a ball, tucking her hands into her armpits to try to warm her fingers. She closes her eyes, trying desperately to sleep, but not succeeding. It’s too cold. She hears Anakin sit up beside her, and then a rustle of fabric disturbs her montrals which are hypersensitive from the cold.

She cracks an eye open, seeing Anakin is in the process of removing his outer tunic. "Are you hot?" She asks, astounded.

He jumps slightly, not realising she's still awake as he glances down at her, "I'm near boiling in here, Snips; are you-" he pauses, eyes glinting in the low light as he watches her, "You're shivering."

"It's minus thirty degrees." She mutters, curling in on herself even more.

Anakin sighs, and she hears him tugging the zip of his sleeping bag, "Come on, then."

She lifts her head up, "What?"

"I'm not waiting around for an evac in the morning because you got hypothermia." He says in a teasing tone, even though she knows he's serious. “Climb in.”

"Fine," she mutters, sliding out of her own sleeping bag and shuddering as the cool air hits her exposed skin.

Anakin takes her arm to guide her into his sleeping bag- he always forgets that her Togruta eyesight is far better than a human's, especially in the dark. She presses against the heat of his forearm, her lip quivering at how delightfully hot his skin feels against hers.

She slides her legs inside his sleeping bag, instantly marvelling at how warm it is. Anakin's like a heater. “Thanks,” she mutters.

"Try to get some sleep." He yawns, laying down as well but turning his back to her.

Ahsoka scans his back, feeling the warmth radiate off his base layer. They aren't touching, but she feels like she's wrapped in a warm hug.

It's nice- feeling a normal temperature on a planet made of ice.

Her eyes travel Anakin's form as she waits for sleep to take her. Her Master's usually clad in Jedi robes, so it's strange to see his clearly defined muscles through his shirt. She wonders how much he can press. Rex can squat about a hundred kilograms, so Anakin- with his heightened strength from the Force- should be able to lift-

"Stop eyeing me up," Anakin mutters, and Ahsoka feels her lekku flush with embarrassment.

She lifts her eyes to the back of his head, suddenly curious as to how his hair feels. Having none herself, Ahsoka has always been fascinated by the concept of styling and cutting hair. Sometimes, she runs her fingers through the hair of men who have been injured. It soothes them, and it satisfies her curiosity.

Anakin moves his head, probably still feeling her eyes on him, and his longish hair falls to the side, revealing his neck. Ahsoka frowns, her Togruta-sharp eyesight narrowing on something she hasn't noticed before.

She takes a breath before speaking, "Master?"

He hums tiredly in response.

"What's this?" She lifts a hand, tapping the thin, silver scar which sits at the base of his neck, no longer than her pinkie finger in length. It doesn't look like a battle scar- it looks surgical.

Anakin goes tense.

He turns suddenly, and she drops her hand, expecting to see him glowering at her, but instead, Anakin keeps his eyes closed.

"Master?"

"Go to sleep, Ahsoka." He snaps, "I don't like repeating myself."

His tone is clipped, stern. Usually, when it's just them, Anakin never refers to her as anything other than 'Snips'. She knows she’s lucky he didn’t call her ‘Padawan’ or else she’d _really_ be in his bad books.

With a light sigh, Ahsoka closes her eyes. She adds the scar on the back of his neck to the list of topics that Anakin will absolutely _refuse_ to talk about, along with Tatooine, his family, and his past.


	2. Chapter 2

When Ahsoka wakes up on Zygerria, the back of her neck is sore.

She soon forgets about the pain when she sees Atai Molec towering over her with a cruel smile on his lips. "Wakey, wakey, Jedi scug."

It isn't until three days after they've left that slaver hell, and she can feel an obvious lump at the back of her neck, that Ahsoka remembers the pain she woke up with.

"What's wrong with you neck?" Anakin asks from across the table, not looking at her as he stirs his soup without taking a spoonful. He hasn't had much of an appetite since they got back, and it won't be long until Kix puts him on the meal replacement shakes that all the colonists are drinking to regain their strength.

"Sore." She says, "Probably nothing."

The Togruta colonists have it far worse than she or Anakin. They were kept in the lovely, clean palace, not subject to manual labour and punishments on Kadavo. It'll take the medics some time to heal the colonists’ physical injuries, but the emotional scars will stay for a while.

"Might be some chafing from the collar," he murmurs, finally glancing up at her, "They didn't... _do_ anything to you, did they?"

"No," she shakes her head, not wanting him to worry. Besides being electrocuted and threatened by Molec, nobody was interested in the Togruta Padawan. "Did the Queen hurt you?"

Anakin snorts, but says nothing. It's a clear sign that something _did_ happen, but he doesn't want to talk about it.

In their shared quarters that night, the bump underneath her skin keeps Ahsoka awake. She keeps pinching and prodding it, trying to understand what's wrong. It's too raised to be a bruise, and too small to be a tumour of any sort.

It feels hard- a _lot_ harder than skin.

Sighing, she rolls over to watch Anakin. He's sleeping on his back, one hand on his stomach whilst the other supports his head. She tries to settle, but her back lekku presses uncomfortably against the bump, and Ahsoka can't deal with the pain any longer.

"Master," she hisses, sliding out of her bunk. Anakin doesn't stir- he must be _really_ tired. His insomnia has been up and down for a few months now, so when he _did_ submit to sleep, it really knocked him out.

She kneels beside him, touching his shoulder, "Hey, Anakin!"

His eyelashes flutter, but his eyes remain closed, "What?"

"Can you look at my neck?"

Anakin sighs, turning away from her, "It's just chaffing, Ahsoka. Get some cream from the medbay if it's bothering you."

Huffing, Ahsoka decides that if Anakin isn't going to take her concern seriously, then she'll try the medics. Hopefully, they don't have their hands full with the colonists.

If it's just chaffing, then some cream will help. If it's something else, well, she'll cross that bridge when she gets to it.

Kix welcomes her into the medbay with a smile although his concern is clear in the Force. After all, it isn't every day their Commander comes to the medics for herself.

He hums methodically as he prods the lump, and Ahsoka hisses, holding her back lek up so it doesn't get in the way. "When did you notice this, sir?"

"After the slave auction," she replies, "when I woke up."

Kix's professional fingers stop on her neck, sending shivers down her spine, "Do you know how long you were unconscious?"

"No," he's using his stern voice, and dread starts to build in her stomach, "What do you think it is? Infected bug bite?"

 _Wishful thinking_ , she knows, but humour is the only way she can calm herself down.

"I'm going to run some scans." Kix says, at last, coming to stand in front of her, "I'll just grab the equipment. Could you call the General down?"

"Why does _Anakin_ need to be here?" She questions, feeling more and more on edge, "Can't you just tell me what's wrong with my neck and slap a bacta patch on it or something?"

"Sir," Kix uses a clipped tone, "I can't make a diagnosis until I run the scan, but I would like the General to be here should my hypothesis be correct."

Anakin's not impressed to be dragged to the medbay at 0240, half-asleep in a chair as they wait for the scan results. Kix is taking his sweet time, and Ahsoka's fingernail biting has progressed into pacing and rubbing the back of her neck.

"No wonder it hurts," Anakin mumbles, his eyes closed as he leans his head against the wall beside him, "you keep touching it."

"Really, Master?" She snaps, turning to glare at him, "Can't you see how much this is stressing me out?"

"You're overreacting," he blinks sleepily at her, "Remember when you thought you were dehydrated so you chugged all that water before bed and ended up-"

"We _don't_ need to talk about that right now." She seethes, the chevrons on her lekku flushing.

"Results are in." Kix announces, stepping into the examination room with his datapad, "As I hypothesised, it's a transmitter chip causing your discomfort, Commander, but-"

"A what?" Anakin roars, bolting up from the chair with so much momentum that it tumbles over.

Ahsoka looks at her Master, shocked. His fists are clenched by his sides, nostrils flaring. "Are you telling me there's a transmitter chip _inside_ my Padawan?"

"What's a transmitter chip?" She asks, directing her question at Kix who isn't intimidated by Anakin's aggressive body language and tone.

"Like a tracking device," the medic says, his eyes shifting between her and Anakin, "except it has the power to kill the person it's connected to."

She feels her face grow pale, and Kix notices, "Yours appears to be deactivated, Commander."

"Deactivated transmitter chips can still cause damage," Anakin says, his voice low.

"The one inside Commander Tano seems to have been deactivated since you left Zygerria, sir." Kix says, completely calm even in the presence of an angry Force-wielder. "If it was going to cause any damage, it would've done it by now."  
  
A shuddery breath leaves Ahsoka's parted lips, and her hand subconsciously lifts to touch the bump which has- no, _had_ \- the power to kill her. _It’s deactivated_ , she reminds herself, _it can’t hurt me._

"Don't touch it, Snips," Anakin warns, and her hand drops to her side once more.

"I'll give you some mild painkillers for the discomfort, Commander." Kix says, "We can remove it in the morning."

"Why can't you remove it now?" Anakin demands.

"Master," Ahsoka whines, snapping back to reality. "I'll be fine for a few hours. Kix will have to power all the machines back up and wake Coric if we do it now."

He turns to her, a haunted look in his eyes, "You haven't _seen_ people drop to their knees from those chips, Ahsoka. They're dead before they hit the ground!"

She rolls her eyes, "Now who’s overreacting?”

Anakin's jaw tenses, and Kix slides out of the room. The clones don't like to linger when the two Jedi are arguing, and he has other patients to check on.

Ahsoka stares back at her Master, waiting for him to speak. It's not like him to hold his tongue- he's always been impulsive with his words.

He remains silent, prompting Ahsoka to walk over to the small mirror which hangs on the wall. Twisting, she tries to see the bump by raising her lekku, but she gets cramp down her shoulders. Without a frustrated sigh, she turns back to Anakin, not expecting him to have his back to her, his hand holding up his hair to reveal his own neck.

"What are you...." she trails off, her sharp eyes landing on the scar which she noticed all those months ago. Suddenly, the pieces line up; his protectiveness, his fear, his anger... "You had one too?"

"I was a slave for nine years," Anakin says, his voice heavy.

"Oh," she feels stupid now. 

On Kiros, Obi-Wan told her about Anakin's past, and she promised to keep an eye on him. Everything got so crazy with the Zygerrian slavers that she completely forgot about what her Grandmaster had shared with her.

"My... _Master_ often threatened to activate the chips." Anakin says, turning to her but keeping his gaze down, "He used that threat to get us to submit."

 _Us_ being Anakin and his mother.

It makes sense now. Anakin had a transmitter chip in his neck for years- he knows what it feels like to have his life in someone else's hands. He and his mother had no choice but to obey.

Her feet move without Ahsoka telling them to, and she wraps her arms around Anakin's middle, "I'm sorry; I didn't know."

Anakin sighs, wrapping his arms slowly around her shoulders- avoiding her neck area entirely. She tries to prod his shields, but they're up tight. "I wasn't planning on telling you, Snips. Nobody wants to hear that their Master was enslaved."

She tightens her grip around his waist, "You shouldn't be ashamed, Master."

He tenses at the word, and Ahsoka suddenly realises how unfair it is. She knows Obi-Wan started training Anakin as soon as he came to the Temple. He was only free from slavery for a handful of days before he was given a new 'Master' and had to call every adult in the Temple by the same title which meant something entirely different to _him_ than it did to _her_.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, not knowing what else to say.

"It's alright," he says, even though it's _not_.

Slowly, he lifts one hand up her back to cup the back of her neck. She looks up at him, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to check it's deactivated." He says, closing his eyes. “I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you.”

She tenses, "Should you be doing that?"

He sighs quietly, "I know what I'm doing, Snips."

So, she lets him reach into her with the Force, pinpointing the device. Closing her eyes, she connects with her Master, fascinated by how much focus he’s able to put into the task. Whilst he checks the device, Anakin sends a wave of calm towards her. She’s profoundly grateful to be able to learn from one of the strongest Jedi in the universe- she doesn’t think Master Yoda is capable of multitasking through the Force like that.

After what feels like hours, Anakin steps back, "You're clear."

She can hear the relief in his tone, and she gives him a cocky smile, "You ought to start trusting Kix more."

He narrows his gaze at her, "You can never be too certain with those chips, Ahsoka; they're deadly."

She touches the back of her neck, feeling more comfortable now Anakin confirmed it won't hurt her. She breaches a line she'd never crossed before, "Did your mother have one?"

There's a long pause, and then, "She did."

Ahsoka nods, then halts- her eyes going wide, “Did the chip-”

“No,” Anakin shakes his head, “The chip didn’t kill her, but I’m pretty sure she died with it.”

“Oh,” Ahsoka looks away, unable to meet his eyes.

She doesn’t remember her own parents. Master Plo took her to the Temple when she could barely walk, so her only memories consist of grass planes and bare, orange feet. Everything else is a mystery, so there’s nothing to miss.

Anakin’s different. He had a life before the Order, and it wasn’t a nice one. His mother was probably the only happiness he had, and she’s dead.

“Tusken Raiders.”

She glances at him, “What?”

“They killed her.” He says, perching on the side of the room’s only cot, “I found her in their camp, and she died in my arms.”

Shock ripples through her. She remembers Mortis, waking up with Anakin embracing her. His Force-signature radiated pure fear as he held her close.

He told her- weeks afterwards- that he was _terrified_ of losing her.

Tears blur her vision, “You were with her when she died?”

Anakin nods, “She died just before the Clone Wars broke out.”

Only a few months before she became his Apprentice.

Ahsoka has often wondered why Anakin cares so much about his friends. She thought he was obsessed with following Jedi teachings, but in reality, he’s one of the most attached people she knows.

Now, she understands why he cares so passionately.

She blinks back her tears, walking over to him, “Would you tell me about her?”

He gives her a tight smile, “Maybe another time, Snips. All this _Zygerria_ stuff-” he nods to the door where dozens of Togruta colonists are crammed into beds for medical care- “it doesn’t bring back nice memories.”

It isn’t a _no_ , it’s a _not now_ , and Ahsoka can deal with that.

“You should probably get some rest before your op,” Anakin says, standing up.

“In our quarters?” She asks when he starts walking towards the door.

“Where else?” He smirks, but she can tell it’s forced.

She follows him, shocked he’s letting her out of the medics’ sight whilst this chip is still in her neck.

“Kix,” Anakin gets the medic’s attention as they walk through the medbay, “Call us when you’re ready.”

The clone is quick to suppress his own surprise and throws them a lazy salute, “Will do, sir.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: Mentions of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

Anakin has to admit that despite the circumstances, seeing his Padawan stoned out of her mind on anaesthesia is quite amusing.

"Kix..." Ahsoka groans, trying to grab the medic's ear as he adjusts her IV. Thanks to her being a Force-sensitive adolescent, the medics need to keep her on round-the-clock care until the anaesthesia was completely out of her system, hence why she hasn't been dismissed to her quarters yet.

"Hold still for me, Commander," Kix mutters, his patience outweighing his frustration as he checks the dressing on the back of her neck.

Anakin tenses his jaw at the thought of him and Ahsoka having matching scars. That doesn’t sit right with him.

"You should grow your hair out..." Ahsoka murmurs, petting Kix's head.

"Snips." Anakin says sternly, as if that would make a difference whilst she’s high.

"I'll consider it, sir." Kix took hold of her hand before she ripped the needle out, lowering it to rest on her stomach. Ahsoka gave him a lopsided grin, her eyes half-lidded. "She should be back to normal in a few hours, General."

"As long as she isn't taking up too much room," Anakin muttered, glancing out of the curtained cubicle to see the amount of Togrutas inside the medbay has lowered since that morning, but the medics still have their hands full.

Kix gives him a tired smile, "She's a good patient, General, especially when she's, uh, _drugged_."

Anakin rolls his eyes- he knew there was a reason why Kix was so adamant about putting her to sleep for the procedure. Ahsoka can get a little jumpy when she’s being treated. "If that's all Kix, you're dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." The medic slides out of the cubicle, instantly shouting across the room, "Excuse me, sir! Please don't take the medbot's arm off!"

Anakin chuckles, leaning over the rails of Ahsoka's bed. The Togruta colonists, although battered from their experience and usually peaceful in nature, are the mischievous type, and he suddenly knows where his student gets it from.

"Don't forget your promise, Skyguy..." Ahsoka murmurs, nestling under the blankets.

Anakin sighs, looking away from the patch under her back lek, "Just focus on resting, Snips."

Why does she care so much about his mother anyway? The woman’s dead- she’s of _no_ interest to Ahsoka. Why can’t they talk about something else- like pod racing statistics?

Part of him wants to just keep his mother to himself- the story of her life is too fragile to be passed around. He trusts Ahsoka, of course, but he doesn't want her to look at him any differently because of his past. She may know now that he was a slave, but Ahsoka may see him as weaker if she finds out how much a childhood in chains destroyed his spirit.

Though, his mother always said to not judge someone by the scars on their back.

"How is she?"

He looks up to see Obi-Wan entering the cubicle, his former Master looking much better after several hours in a bacta tank. He wears a tired smile as he observes the Knight and Padawan, "Kix told me what happened as soon as I regained consciousness."

"She's fine." Anakin straightens, resting a hand on Ahsoka's shoulder. "She gave us a bit of a scare."

"I'm sure." Obi-Wan's eyes show exactly how much he understands. When the Healers found the chip in Anakin's neck, his newly appointed Master nearly fainted.

"Master Kenobi..." Ahsoka stirs, blinking groggily at her Grandmaster.

"Hello, little one." He makes his way over, taking one of Ahsoka's hands in his own, "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she yawns loudly, shutting her eyes again.

Anakin bites back a smile, patting her shoulder, "Rest up, Ahsoka."

Obi-Wan catches his eyes, nodding towards the curtain. Anakin glances back at Ahsoka, anxiety filling him at the thought of leaving her alone.

"She just needs sleep." Obi-Wan prompts him, "Come, Ani."

The use of his nickname makes it clear what this conversation is going to be about. Anakin sighs as he follows his former Master out of the cubicle, casting one final look at Ahsoka before walking away.

"I want to show you something." Obi-Wan says, leading him into the medbay office. He gestures towards the desk.

"A jar?" Anakin asks when his eyes fall on the glass pot which has a black tint so dark that he can’t see through it.

"Look inside."

He huffs, annoyed _this_ is why he has been pulled from Ahsoka's side. Sluggishly, he tilts the jar to look inside, a frown marking his face almost immediately, "Are those..."

"Transmitter chips." Obi-Wan supplies.

Anakin feels his eyes widen. There are probably a few hundred transmitters inside the jar, all perfectly artificial black squares with the ability to kill at the push of a button.

They had been his only fear as a child, and they still terrify him, but there’s something he found empowering about seeing them all in the jar as if they were pebbles.

"After Ahsoka's was discovered, the 212th medics got to work. Every colonist was scanned, and those of the chips of everyone unfortunate enough to have been given one." Obi-Wan explains from his side. "Unlike Ahsoka's, many of the chips were still activate before the medics removed them."

"Still active." Anakin repeats, shaking a few of the chips into his palm and testing their weight. He'd lived with one implanted in his neck for nine years, but he's never seen one up close. "As in they still had the potential to kill?"

"Yes." Obi-Wan says, his tone measured, "If Ahsoka hadn't raised her concerns with you and Kix, a lot more colonists could've died on this cruiser."

Anakin closes his fist, feeling the dead life force of the chips in his palm. He squeezes so hard that a few of them crack- proving that they were made of the cheapest materials. That doesn’t surprise him- slavers always like to cut costs down.

"I thought it was nothing." He says eventually, "I only told her to go to the medbay so she would stop complaining."

Guilt consumes him. What if Ahsoka hadn’t gone to the medbay? Ahsoka could've been killed because of his negligence, and so could the colonists.

"Sometimes, people who experience trauma try to avoid putting themselves in situations that remind them of it." Obi-Wan's voice is closer now, just behind him. "You subconsciously pushed away your worst-case scenario, and nobody can blame you for that."

Anakin closes his eyes, willing himself to stay calm and composed. Coric won't be happy if he had to pick up all these chips and clean up shards of broken glass from Anakin throwing a fit of rage.

"Brother." Obi-Wan rests a firm hand on his shoulder, "Stop thinking about the _what ifs_ , and focus on what's really happened. Your Padawan is safe, so are the colonists, and you and me. This was the best outcome we could've achieved given the circumstances."

Obi-Wan squeezes his shoulder, "Your mother would be proud, Ani."

His mother. Force, what would she say about all this? How would she feel knowing Anakin submitted to being the Zygerrian Queen’s slave? She would be so heartbroken and angry, especially at him for forcing Ahsoka to wear that horrible outfit and try to appeal to the men of the-

The hand leaves his shoulder, and Anakin senses his former Master is about to leave the room, "Ahsoka wants to know what my mother was like."

Obi-Wan pauses in his tracks, "Do you want to tell her?"

Anakin opens his eyes, unclenching his fist to examine the crushed chips. He wants to crush them all- to burn them. "I don't know.”

"You should meditate on it." Obi-Wan says softly- _as if meditating has ever helped Anakin in the past_. "For what it's worth, your mother would have liked Ahsoka. She trusted Master Qui-Gon to bring you to the Order, and I think she would trust you to raise Ahsoka to Knighthood as well."

Anakin nods, unable to suffice the different emotions bubbling in his chest, "Thanks, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan’s sentiment meant more to Anakin than the wise Master would ever realise.


	4. Chapter 4

The wound healed, and Ahsoka forgot about the scar on the back of her neck after Governor Roshti enlisted her help to rebuild Kiros after the colonists recovered from their experience. Well, they recovered from the physical wounds- she wasn't so sure about the mental ones.

Within a few weeks, their mission to Zygerria was nothing more than a memory. Sure, Obi-Wan moved more gingerly than normal- courtesy to some nerve damage- and Rex struggled to look any of his superiors in the eyes, but ultimately, they were moving on.

Or so Ahsoka thought until Master Windu gave them a mission in the lower levels of Coruscant.

"Intelligence suggests there is a slave trafficking black market operating beneath the Senate's nose. The Council is sending you two down to the Underworld to investigate." Windu commands them in the quietness of one of the Temple's corridors. Apparently, black market slavery didn't warrant the interest of a Council meeting.

"Do we have back-up?" Anakin asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Through their bond, Ahsoka can feel her Master tensing up, and the scar on the back of her neck itches.

"A Coruscant Guard squadron will be assisting you." Windu replies, looking bored.

"Seven troopers?" Ahsoka blurts out, "We're getting _seven_ troopers to help us dismantle an underground slavery operation?"

Windu lowers his gaze to her, anger flashing through his eyes which is usually reserved for Anakin, "You're investigating _only_ , Padawan. Seven troopers will be plenty."

She opens her mouth to protest, but before she can demand _why_ Windu expected them to walk away from slave trafficking without doing anything to stop it, Anakin places a hand on her shoulder, "Calm down, Snips; we'll manage."

There's a note to his voice, a silent message that he isn't going to blindly agree to do what Windu ordered. Knowing Anakin, he isn't happy with _investigating only_ either.

"You are too emotional, Tano," Windu says before he spins on his heel and walks away.

“Shabuir,” she mutters, hoping he hears her.

"Hey, take a breath," Anakin prompts gently, and only then does Ahsoka realise she's shaking.

"How are you okay with that?" She asks, knocking his hand off her shoulder as they head towards the closest landing platform. "He wants us to _go_ to the Underworld, _witness slavery_ , and _then_ come back without helping anybody?"

"Let's confirm if there _is_ some sketchy business going on first, yeah?" Anakin says, "If there _is_ slavery occurring on Coruscant, then we'll do something about it."

"Do what?" She looks up at her Master, noticing his steel gaze as they climb into the speeder. "We'll have _seven_ clones for back-up, Master, and they aren't the 501st."

Through his tense expression, he manages a smile, "Trust me, Snips. I won't _need_ the clones' help if I see something I don't like."

* * *

The joint Windu tips them to is smelly.

Ahsoka scrunches up her nose as they step inside the grungy bar, quickly being ushered to their seats because Windu _took the liberty of making them undercover potential buyers_.

"Stay close to me," Anakin says, his voice low.

Ahsoka's about to ask why he was so concerned, but then she remembers that she’s a Togruta, and even with her cloak on, people are starting to notice- _men_ , especially.

"I won't let them touch you," Anakin says, following her thoughts. Then, he swings an arm around her shoulders, bringing her towards his chest before she can protest. He growls out a warning, "Keep your eyes _off_ my slave."

Oh, so they're playing _this_ game again. It didn't go so well for them, last time.

Ahsoka shifts, staying under Anakin's arm but twisting her face so she can see the stage where a Rodian man is standing. "Gentlemen, welcome to the auction! I hope you're hungry!"

Laughter booms around them whilst Anakin goes tense. Ahsoka feels bile rise to the back of her throat when she realises that this is no run-of-the-mill slave operation. This is a pleasure slave market.

"How would they be getting slaves onto Coruscant?" She asks Anakin, trying to remain composed when some creepy guy licks his lips at her. _Gross._

"Smugglers," Anakin replies, taking a sip of his drink which was _supposed_ to just be a prop. Ahsoka presses her lips together. "They take people who don't speak Basic from their villages and bring them to capitalist planets where black market slavery operations- just like this one- are in full swing."

"And because the people don't speak Basic, they can't get any help?"

"Exactly." Anakin spares her a small glance, "I wish you didn't have to understand this stuff."

She gives him a look, "I wish you didn't have to live through it."

Anakin makes an odd noise, returning his gaze to the stage where the Rodian is rambling away about the history of the leader of his organisation, and the importance of rich men having young women around to use for their own pleasure.

Ahsoka tunes out, making sure her commlink is wired to send a signal to the Coruscant Guard Sergeant who is waiting nearby. They could crash this little party right now, but of course, Windu wants intel.

Maybe Master Windu would feel differently if _he_ went to Zygerria.

She shakes her head to clear that thought. She wouldn't wish her experience on anyone, even someone as arrogant as Windu.

"Now, may I present to you," the Rodian draws Ahsoka's attention once more, "three pure sisters from Dagro!"

Anakin's arm over her back goes rigid, and Ahsoka feels her eyes widen as three chained woman- who look like they’re no older than her- are pulled on stage. It's clear they're related by similarly shaded brown hair and skin tones, but one is obviously older than the other two as she pushes them back from the spotlight.

They're all dressed in _less_ than what Ahsoka wore on Zygerria.

Roars of approval ring through the crowd, and Ahsoka exhales shakily as she looks up at Anakin's face. There are lines in his forehead, and his entire jaw is shaking.

Simply put, Ahsoka has never seen her Master _angrier_.

"Ahsoka," he says, his voice trembling as he reaches under his cloak, "Let's put a stop to this."

She nods quickly, reaching for her own lightsabers, "Yes, Master."

* * *

By the time the Coruscant Guard rush in after hearing the chaos, more than a dozen willing buyers lay dead on the ground, and Anakin's on stage, his lightsaber held to the Rodian's throat whilst Ahsoka stands in front of the women- no, _girls_ \- protecting them.

"By the order of the Republic, you are under arrest." Anakin says, forcing the Rodian against the wall with his lightsaber under the man's chin. A fleeting thought goes through Ahsoka’s mind- _would it be so bad if his hand slipped?_

"Arrest anyone who's still alive." Ahsoka instructs the Coruscant Guard Sergeant, not looking at the bodies littering the floor.

 _They were beasts_ , she tells herself to relieve the guilt, _the universe is better off without them._

She deactivates her lightsabers and turns to the three girls. They're shaking, the eldest one standing in front, but her knees are threatening to buckle at any moment.

"Do you speak any Basic?" Ahsoka asks gently.

The oldest girl nods, "Some."

Some is better than none.

"Okay," Ahsoka looks over at Anakin as he roughly throws the Rodian to a clone. "Are there others, Master?"

"I'll check," he mutters bitterly, disappearing behind the stage.

She turns back to the girls, making eye contact with the older one, "You and your sisters are safe now."

The girl cocks her head to one side, "Did your Master buy us?"

"What?" Ahsoka frowns, fearing a communication barrier until she realises what had happened, "Oh, no, he doesn't _own_ me." The girls stare at her with confusion, so Ahsoka taps her lightsaber, "We're Jedi."

"Jedi," the girl repeats with wide eyes, then she looks at her sisters, saying things in a language that Ahsoka can't understand. Slowly, the tension eases out of their bodies, and Ahsoka calls a trooper to bring some blankets. The poor girls must be freezing.

"They were the only ones," Anakin appears beside her.

Ahsoka nods, relieved there aren't others but also upset that these girls were brought here alone- without anyone else to help them through this horrific ordeal. "Can they be taken back to Dagro?"

"It would probably be better if they're rehoused here." Anakin says, "Pirates go to Dagro frequently to tear people from their families. They might not be so lucky to be saved next time. If their parents are still alive, they can be granted asylum seeker status.”

Ahsoka exhales shakily, taking the blankets from the clone, and offering them to the girls. They at least deserve some dignity whilst being dressed like pin-up models.

"We've arrested everyone, General." The Sergeant tells them, gathering his men and the potential slave owners who are now cuffed, "Shall we take the girls back to base?"

"We'll escort them back." Anakin replies, "Thank you, Sergeant."

"Excuse me, Miss," Ahsoka looks at the girl who addresses her, "What will happen to us now?"

She glances at Anakin- unsure of what to say. Thankfully, he steps in, "We'll take you to people who can help." He pauses, then says something that Ahsoka doesn't understand. Whatever he says, the oldest girl understands and nods, repeating it to her sisters.

Ahsoka looks at Anakin quizzically, and he shrugs, "Slave code."

She can't tell if he's serious or joking.

"It means they're free." He explains.

* * *

"My mother was from Dagro." Anakin says, breaking the silence in the booth where he and Ahsoka are sat.

After leaving the bar where the girls were nearly sold to the highest bidder, they made a pit stop to the Coruscant Guard complex, registering the sisters as refugees from slave trafficking, completing their medicals and getting them fresh clothes and food. Once they were settled- _as settled as they could be_ \- Anakin and Ahsoka left.

Understandably, they didn't fancy talking to Mace Windu at that hour of the night, so they went to their favourite diner instead.

Ahsoka got food, and Anakin got booze.

"At least, that's where she _thought_ she was from." Anakin’s fingers rapidly tap the glass of his fourth or fifth drink, "She was young when she was taken, and she told me that her parents got separated from her quickly, so she could never ask them."

"So, she never really knew a life outside slavery?" Ahsoka questions quietly.

"She was free for the last few years of her life." Anakin's jaw tightens a fraction, "But ultimately, she died in chains."

Ahsoka nods slowly, remembering what he had already told her about the Tusken Raiders. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever have a life outside the Order.” She starts saying, before backtracking quickly, “I know slavery and being a Jedi aren't the same thing, but they're both-"

"Lifetime appointments." Anakin finishes for her, managing a dry chuckle, "Trust me, I was tempted to go back to Tatooine after I was first brought here."

Ahsoka smiles bitterly, "Master Obi-Wan was that bad, huh?"

This time, Anakin laughs properly, and it feels _wrong_ because they're talking about slavery. "I missed my mom. I still do, I guess." He shrugs, "It's stupid."

"It's not." Ahsoka reaches out, laying her hand on his forearm, "If I had known my parents for nine years, I'm sure I would miss them too." She pauses, letting her words sit in the air, "You still haven't told me what she was like."

"She was _so_ kind." He blurts out, suddenly clenching his fists on the tabletop, "I can't even put it into words, Snips. She was so... _good_."

She nods, feeling a lump start to form in her throat. "I see where you get it from."

"Not me," he shakes his head, "I just killed- how many people? Eight, nine?"

"You killed seven. I killed ten." The moment the numbers slip out of her mouth, Ahsoka feels her throat tighten up. _How many did she kill tonight?_

"Exactly." Anakin doesn't notice the tears brimming in her eyes. "My mother wouldn't raise a hand to nobody- not even Watto. She spent her entire life in chains, and she never held an _ounce_ of hatred to anyone who wronged her. I'm not like that, Snips- _we're_ not like that."

"We're not." She agrees- because she has the blood of ten men on her hands. They may have been evil, but who gave _her_ the right to take their lives?

"My mom could do everything." Anakin rambles on, "She could cook, clean, sew, raise a child on kriffing Tatooine- she could do it all."

Ahsoka discreetly lifts a hand to wipe away a tear that threatens to fall. She isn't sure what she's crying over, but it's probably a combination of Anakin's hurt, her own guilt, and a side effect of the adrenaline rush earlier.

It’s stupid that she’s the one getting upset when Anakin was the one to live in slavery for nine years.

"Should we get going?" She asks quietly when Anakin finishes his drink- his hands are shaking.

"Yeah," Anakin wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve, "Yeah, let's get out of here. Let's go back to the nice, cosy Temple where everyone knows their place and aspires to be peacekeepers of the galaxy."

She says nothing as they walk out, knowing how her Master can get a bit _irrational_ when he drinks. Maybe she should've stopped him after one pint.

The ride back to the Temple is silent. Ahsoka drives, focusing on the traffic, whilst Anakin slumps in the passenger seat, muttering on and on about his mother. Ahsoka can't hear everything he says, and she doesn't think _he_ knows what's coming out of his mouth, but she doesn't stop him.

"We're back." She announces once she parks on the landing platform, glancing at Anakin.

He's staring at the sky which has too much light pollution for stars to be seen clearly. "Why didn't Qui-Gon try harder to free her?"

Ahsoka steps out of the speeder, mulling over his question as she opens the door on his side, "I'm sure he did everything he could, Master."

"He didn't." He shakes his head numbly, "He freed _me_ , but he didn't free _her_. What type of Jedi are we?" His fist slams onto the door, nearly catching her fingers if it weren't for her fast reflexes, "We couldn't even save everyone off bloody Zygerria!"

"We did our best." She offers, opening the door and taking his hand, "Come on, Master."

"No!" He pulls back, nearly throwing her into the speeder, but she braces herself against the open door, "Jedi don't deserve to live in this luxurious Temple if we can't even free people from slavery! How… How _dare_ we…”

"Anakin-" she has to swallow before sobs start to rip through her, "Come with me, _please_."

“We’re just…” his head drops onto the dashboard as he slurs, “we’re selfish.”

Ahsoka closes her eyes tightly as the scar on the back of her neck starts to burn. Anakin’s right. They Jedi _are_ selfish. How slaves are there on Tatooine with chips in their necks? How can the Jedi Order claim to be so _good_ when they can’t even help those people?

“We saved those three sisters.” She whispers, her voice cracking. “I know it’s nothing in the big picture, but it’s changed their lives for the better.”

Anakin grunts in response, making Ahsoka sigh heavily, “We can’t save everyone, Master, but we can try our best to save as many as possible.”

They stay there for what feels like hours, Anakin resting his forehead on the dashboard and Ahsoka hovering by the door. She’s tempted to call Obi-Wan, but it’s late, and she doesn’t want to admit that she doesn’t know how to help Anakin.

What can she say? She was never a slave.

After a while, Anakin lifts his head off the dashboard. His eyes are red, puffy, but Ahsoka doubt hers look any better. She’s simply happy he seems more alert and calmer.

“Let’s go to bed, Master,” she offers her hand once more, “We could both use some sleep.”

To her relief, he accepts her hand, “Okay, Snips.”

They never mention slavery again, but that’s fine with her. It will probably never become easier for Anakin to face his past, but at least he’ll never have to hide it from Ahsoka- not anymore.

_That’s what friends are for._


End file.
